


postmodern pastoral

by pr0serpina



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Cock Warming, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Praise Kink, more sub than dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr0serpina/pseuds/pr0serpina
Summary: From a certain angle, it looks and sounds like a pastoral scene, even Norman Rockwell-esque. Hawkeye's favorite bossa nova record accompanies the tinkling of a crystal swizzle stick knocking against a martini glass. And kneeling so quietly and faithfully at BJ’s feet is Hawkeye, with his eyes closed, BJ’s fingers in his hair.





	postmodern pastoral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alleyesonthehindenburg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alleyesonthehindenburg/gifts).



From a certain angle, it looks and sounds like a pastoral scene, even Norman Rockwell-esque. Late springtime calm suffuses the small living room at the beach house. The windows open to the warm breeze.  Hawkeye's favorite bossa nova record accompanies the tinkling of a crystal swizzle stick knocking against a martini glass. BJ reclines on the sofa, reading. The trees outside the window filter the light and give it a filmy, dreamy quality. And kneeling so quietly and faithfully at BJ’s feet is Hawkeye, with his eyes closed, BJ’s fingers in his hair.

“Are you sure about this?” BJ asks. 

Hawkeye nods. “If it gets too much I’ll tap on the inside of your wrist twice.”

BJ’s eyebrows raise, but if Hawkeye doesn’t feel like talking, that’s okay. “Okay. I’m going to read while I have this drink. Does that work for you?”

Hawkeye nods again and sinks to his knees on the cushion. It’s been a hard, exhausting week for both of them, and they have a day off together for the first time in so long. BJ will never totally understand why it’s so soothing for Hawkeye to hold his cock in his mouth, but he doesn’t have to. He lets Hawkeye extract his cock from his pants, and he flinches instinctively at the sudden warmth.

Hawkeye rests his head on BJ’s thigh and gives a soft of sigh, letting his mind go blissfully blank. His ears fill with a sort of pleasant white noise. It’s warm between BJ’s thighs, and the spicy-sweaty scent of him is most concentrated here. Between sips of his martini, BJ pets Hawkeye’s hair gently. He feels so hypersensitive that the touch of BJ’s fingers feels as though it’s happening to someone else, another Hawkeye that he’s symbiotically linked to, especially when BJ strokes his cheek. Hawkeye’s glad he shaved this morning. 

BJ’s reading material is as dry as it comes—not his usual day-off fare, but the pretty picture of Hawkeye on his knees between BJ’s legs is undeniably, deliciously stirring, and he wants Hawkeye to be desperate with waiting before that he forces himself to focus,  only reading down to soothe Hawkeye’s hair and cheeks like he would a retriever. It's against his more wholesome instincts to treat Hawk like this. Hawk should be worshiped, loudly and blatantly, not cosseted like an extension of BJ himself, but it's as if Hawks this, needs the permission to silence his mind and focus on BJ.  He knows that the absentminded attention of a caress will be a satisfying tease for Hawk; he’ll bask in it, but ache for more.

"Combining a laminectomy with a posterior fusion, even athletes can be cured of spondylolisthesis without metal rod insertion,” BJ reads calmly. “In other words,” he translates “athletes and the elderly can have their vertebrae slip into each other, and in addition to hurting a hell of a lot, their backs can seize up. We used to fix it with metal rods, but now we can shave a tiny bit off part of one vertebra, fuse two others together with a bone graft to stabilize it, and teach them to strengthen their core muscles so they don’t overcompensate with their backs.”

Hawkeye floats. BJ’s fingers and cock are his anchor. The tension of the week slips away. Nobody needs anything from him. He doesn’t have to focus on pleasuring BJ (although he absolutely would, with delight, if the situation called for it). He doesn’t often let himself do this, seek out this singularly selfish indulgence, but he feels the world melting into nothingness. BJ’s thumb slips across his collarbone, and there’s so much love in that one touch that Hawkeye’s bones ache. Even though BJ’s cock is soft in his mouth, it’s an overtly intimate and sexual act, being on his knees like this. He can’t help being aroused, but he pushes it to the back burner as much as he can for the time being, letting it simmer under the surface of his awareness. 

BJ drains his martini. “You look so pretty like this,” he says to Hawkeye, rubbing his jawbone. Hawkeye gives a sound that’s between a whine and a sigh and nuzzles at BJ’s thigh as much as the angle allows. He blinks up at BJ, his eyes dark with want. Arousal floods BJ, and he watches Hawk shudder as BJ grows fully hard in his mouth.

The kitchen door opens and shuts, and the boys hear Peggy bustling through the kitchen. Hawkeye instinctively freezes up as two types of guilt pool in his chest: for enjoying BJ without Peg, and for feeling guilty about something so silly.  BJ pets his hair with a gentle, reassuring touch. “It’s okay,” he says lowly. “Hi, honey,” he calls to Peg.

“Hello, darling, where’s...oh!” Peg comes to a halt behind the sofa, eyes wide.

Hawkeye’s muscles feel like iron. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, _can't_ unless she tells him it's okay.

“Hello, darling,” she starts again, kissing BJ’s cheek. She comes round the other side of the sofa and crouches down next to Hawkeye. “And hello, sweetheart,” she murmurs against Hawkeye’s cheek. “You’re being very good, aren’t you?”

Hawk sags into Peggy’s reassuring touch. Is he being good? He wants to be good so badly.

“Yes,” BJ says with a hint of pride. “He’s being so good. Hasn’t moved a muscle since we sat down—though I told you that you could, Hawk.” He strokes Hawkeye’s hair fondly, brushing it out of his eyes.

“I’ve never known you to be so quiet,” Peg says, rubbing Hawkeye’s back.

“He’s occupied,” BJ says dryly.

“You know what I mean. You’re not making any sound, sweetheart,” Peg murmurs to Hawkeye.

“Not unless I tell him that he can,” BJ replies, which is a bit of a clever white lie. At that—and BJ petting him, and Peg praising him—Hawkeye whimpers ever so faintly. “Oh! He speaks!” BJ teases. “It’s okay, Hawk. We can stop.”

Hawkeye shakes his head slightly. It’s tempting, he thinks, but he wonders if by staying like this, they’ll tell him he’s good just one more time.

Peg strokes his hair alongside BJ. “You look so pretty like this,” she tells Hawkeye. “You’re never so still, so quiet, and look how well your lips fit around BJ. You’re gorgeous like this.”  Hawkeye shudders. Peg’s hands slip from his hair to stroke his stomach, and she kisses the back of his neck. “Are you keeping him warm for me? Or--” Peg’s clever fingers dance tantalizingly across the front of his trousers—“is he keeping you ready for me?”

Hawk whines; it’s as if Peg has sparks in her fingertips.

“You know, Beej,” Peg says conversationally, “I think Hawkeye likes being told how good he is. Don’t you?”

Hawkeye nods. He feels like a live wire. BJ is so hard in his mouth, and he groans a little around it, relishing that he’s at least partially responsible. BJ strokes his cheek while Peg teases his cock through his trousers.

“I love that you’ll be so still and quiet for me, Hawk,” BJ says softly. “Just for me. Can’t believe you trust me not to hurt you, that you love me enough to kneel at my feet. No matter what you’re doing, you are always so good, Hawk. So good for me. So good to me.”

He’d have to open his eyes to check, but Hawkeye thinks it’s possible he’s crying.

Peg flicks open the button on his fly, eases his zipper down, and grasps his cock with her cool, steady hand. “You really are so beautiful, Hawkeye,” she whispers, kissing his neck lightly. “Look how well you took care of BJ, how well you always take care of me.” This is not strictly speaking true, because BJ’s cock has slipped from Hawk’s mouth and he’s trying desperately not to moan out loud, so he’s got his face buried in BJ’s thigh. “You are beautiful, and brave, and good, so very good.” This time Hawkeye does cry out, and he’s shaking, coming in an almost painful wave. The earth goes a bit fuzzy, and he becomes aware that he’s definitely crying a little.

BJ strokes his hair and cheeks and Peg kisses his shoulder blades lightly. “Shh, you’re okay,” BJ soothes. “I love you.” “

You’re brilliant,” Peg echoes. “I love you, Hawkeye, so much.”

Finally, finally, he lets himself sag into Peg’s arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> bit of a rough thing i wrote as part of the smutcember challenge (or more accurately, two different things MASH-ed together...geddit, mash? i'll see myself out)


End file.
